


If You Leave

by Squeakyfingers



Category: Covert Affairs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 05:58:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10269818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeakyfingers/pseuds/Squeakyfingers
Summary: One Shot. Missing scene 4x10. Joan reacts to the news from Copenhagen.





	

**Author's Note:**

> As I re-watch this series, I am struck by Joan’s complexity. Especially in regards to her relationship with Annie. Inspired by the events of season 4’s “Levitate Me”. We never get to see Joan’s reaction to the news, so I decided to play in that sandbox for a bit.

Joan’s been home from the hospital only hours before he appears on her porch; the knock is so loud it jolts her off the couch in seconds. His disheveled and bleary eyed form, rigid and pulsing with nervous energy as she opens the door.

“Auggie.”

She ushers him into her home without questions. He’s proven time and time again that their bond is thicker than blood.

“Auggie.” She repeats, hoping to ground him, center him. “What happened?”

“Annie’s dead.”

She’s not prepared for his answer.

The moment Auggie utters the words, it leaves Joan gasping for breath, clutching her chest. Everything in her universe spins from its axis. Over the past few weeks, she’s been a cobbler, holding together her life with bits of string and sheer will. She feels the rip permeate her chest as the threads are pulled apart. Her legs buckle, her body pitching forward – falling, collapsing on itself.

“JOAN!”

He intervenes in seconds, she feels his hand snake around her back for support as she fights against the tide of emotion that threatens to overwhelm her. It’s an instinct, to lean on each other, but in this moment it feels so hollow. 

Her knees hit the floor, crumpling beneath her. She feels so helpless.

“Auggie, this can’t be. She can’t…” She hears the words echoing, distant, murmuring in her ears.

She’s been through this before. She’s lost people – assets, colleagues, operatives. But with Annie, it’s different. It always has been. So many things left unsaid between them, so many words unspoken. Memories hit her like a tidal wave, a deluge that crashes into her and knocks the breath out of her once more. 

_Ben Mercer._  
Lena Smith.  
Russia. 

She’d seen so much of herself in Annie. The way that Annie bucked the rules, let her instincts take over – that unending need to show everyone how valuable she was to the CIA.  
It pained her to know Annie died without that validation. Without understanding that who she was, was enough for the CIA. Enough for Joan.

“Joan! Come back to me. Come on.” 

There’s a pleading in his voice that draws her out of her memories. It takes a moment, but gently her brain registers the sensation of soft spirals on her back, gentle hands. “Nice deep breaths. There you go.”

Her breath returns. Vision clarifies. The hardwood feels cool on her knees. She looks up to find Auggie facing her, so close they’re nearly nose to nose.

“There’s proof?” She asks quietly.

“Footage from the camera feed in the hotel. Calder cornered her in the elevator. She had nowhere to run.” Joan watches Auggie sift through his bag until he’s able to locate a large manila envelope. “They have officially labeled Annie a rogue operative.” 

The photo feels so light in her hands. So final. 

“Joan, are you okay?” His eyes are full of concern. “With everything with Arthur, and now Annie…maybe we should get you checked out?”

Grabbing the arm of the sofa, she rights herself and pads softly over to the stairs. In the commotion, she had forgotten she was still clad in her pajamas - an old t-shirt of Arthur’s, and a pair of cotton shorts. It’d been a comfort, a way to keep him close. 

“I’m fine. I promise. Let me go change and we can talk some more.”

“Okay.” His cane is back in his hand, fingers sweep the furniture, looking for a place to sit.

“This all leads back to Henry.” She steels her gaze, straightens her back as she speaks.

“It always does.” Auggie replies, his jaw tight.

“Okay, then.” She breathes, the grief settling into her chest. The rage, flares and quiets. Two decades of training kicks in. “Let’s get him.”

\-- Fin.


End file.
